


Here She Is

by dawnstruck



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2.17 Heart, BAMF!Dean, Gen, M/M, POV Outsider, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:13:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstruck/pseuds/dawnstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wants to approach them, but doesn't dare to. <br/>Man and vampire and angel, stalking through the dark like they  own it. Maybe they do. Maybe they laid claim on the shadows they have conquered. Maybe this is their birth right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here She Is

 

She wants to approach them, but doesn't dare to. Man and vampire and angel, stalking through the dark like they own it. Maybe they do. Maybe they laid claim on the shadows they have conquered. Maybe this is their birth right.

 

She's spent many years down here, though she never figured out how to measure time. It's never quite day, never quite night. There are no seasons, only the unending half-dark of a forest that has no need to change its leaves, almost contantly swathed in fog.

Sometimes it rains or hails. Often it storms. But the sky is always a sickly yellow-grey color, heavy with clouds. She hasn't seen a sun or stars in ages, isn't even sure whether there are any. She hasn't seen the moon either, and yet she can feel its eternal pull, in her blood, in her breath.

In choosing death she had hoped to escape the life as an untamable creature on earth. Here, though, the creature is the only thing she can be. Not only for a few nights of the month, but all of the time. All of the time.

She had never believed in the afterlife. Figured that if there was such a thing after all, she was virtuous enough to qualify for whatever equivalent of heaven existed. But here she is.

It's not Hell, she knows that, almost instinctively. But she has overheard other creatures talking.

They call it Purgatory. Monster heaven. To her it's simply horrible.

Some of the others are completely inhuman, whether in body or in mind. Others seem less distracted, less _gone._ Occasionaly she talks to them. Purgatory small talk, though there is never much to talk about in the first place.

Lately, though, there has been an uproar. Rumors that no one really believed. And yet... and yet here she is.

The rumors are true. 

 

There is a man who never died and an angel who has half the inhabitants of Purgatory thirsting for his blood.

The other half wants to go after the human, but they know better than that. Because he put them there. 

They are scared of him. The thought actually makes her laugh quietly. They are werewolves and vampires, skinwalkers and ghouls, creatures of the dark, the stuff nightmares are made of. And yet here they are, dead and still afraid of one single man.

His name is a frightful whisper, a curse between the shadows.

They all seem to know him, whether face to face or from hearsay, like a boogeyman, a predator that prowls through the night. He's been to Hell and back, they say. He's been to Heaven and remembered. 

She's still young and doesn't know much, whether from her life before or now. Others are much older, much more ancient. They compare him to other men, but she only recognizes a few of them. David, Hercules and Gilagamesh, all of them cunning and courageous, kings and warriors and of devine descent. The elders say he is like them and yet not all. Child of mortal men, alive where all else is dead. 

They fear him and maybe she should, too.

But she loved his brother once, for one short day and one even shorter night. Spent the last hours of her life with him. Begged him to put a silver bullet through her head. She remembers him crying, tears screaming down his face. And she remembers this man, his older brother, offering to do it instead. She remembers apologies. She remembers mercy. She is not scared.

But she stays in the dark and watches, curious and longingly. Follows them around for days.

 

It's strange. They're the most ragtag little gang she could ever imagine, something straight out of a comic book, only less colorful, less optimistic, with the superheroes barely discernable from the bad guys.

They've got a vampire, half-leading, half-walking at the sidelines. He's got a deep, rough voice and still sounds soft-spoken. He makes wry comments and rolls his eyes a lot when the other two are staring at each other.

They do that often, long soulful glances, searching but never quite finding.

The angel usually breaks away first, looking down at the dirt or staring off into the distance, and then the human seems disappointed, sometimes looking like he is about to say something. But he never does, instead choosing to casually shoulder his crude weapon and march on again, catching up with the vampire.

The angel trails behind, a little lost, a little forgotten in his tattered trench coat and the scrubs that must have been white once upon a time. He doesn't look like an angel. He doesnt look like much of anything. 

She wonders why the human was so intent on getting him back, but maybe the stares and his little encouraging smiles are answer enough.

His voice had echoes through the forest when he was still trying to find him, a constant hunt, a constant inquisition. And always always the same question.

_Where's the angel?_

The angel is right behind him, watching his back, watching the vampire for any wrong move. The angel is offering him a hand to help him up a steep hill. The angel is crouched by his side as he sleeps, keeping alert for any danger.

At times she thinks that he must have spotted her through the foliage, that he knows she is watching, but he never says anything, neither to her nor to his companions. Maybe he can feel that she doesn't pose a threat.

 

After a while of listening in on their conversations she understands that they are looking for a way out, that the vampire knows a way out. The human is optimistic. Talks of returning to his brother, of taking his car for a long leisured ride, of eating pie and cheeseburgers and sundaes, of taking a hot shower and spending an entire week lying naked in the sun. It's funny how she misses pretty much the same things.

Idly she wonders whether she would be able to make it out as well, but doesn't let herself dwell on it. The vampire will stay a vampire even after he leaves, and she would stay a werewolf. There's simply no point.

She yearns for oblivion, though. If she died here as well, would that wish finally be granted?

Down here, she had killed exactly once. Defense and escape usually seemed like the smarter move, but when the one responsible for her situation sought here out even in death, like they belonged together, like she owed him, she had given in to the urge of rage and vengeange and ripped him apart.

Since then she has reigned herself in. She wants oblivion, yes, but not the kind that comes with losing the last bit of humanity. 

 

She stays with them till the end. Till the find the eerie sphere of light, till the human slits open his arm and absorbs the vampire, till him and his angel stumble up the hill together, sweet escape just out of reach.

But when the angel falls and does not get back up again, it all suddenly makes sense. The looking away first, the always hanging back, the air of guilt that followed him wherever he went.

He simply says no, forcefully pushes away the hand and they stare at each other one last time. 

Then the human is gone, sucked from this world like he got sucked into it. Only now his friend won't emerge with him on the other side.

She steps out of the treeline when the angel climbs down the slope again, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped. He looks defeated, but glances up when she moves again, hoping to appear harmless.

For a moment he stays quiet.

“You've been watching us for a while now,“ he points out what they both know, “But you've never tried to approach us.“ 

“Your friend...“ she starts and doesn't know how to continue. She had never planned to talk to any of them.

“You knew him when you were still alive,“ he observes mildly, “He and his brother sent you here. And yet you feel no anger towards him.“

“I asked them to do it,“ she says and shrugs a little, “It was better this way. You should have gone with him.Why didn't you?“

“It was better this way,“ he echoes and then adds, “I have to repent for my crimes.“

“I've done horrible things, too,“ she admits, “But I haven't found absolution here.“

“I do not deserve it either way,“ he claims, but his gaze is fixed on the spot where the sphere of light has disappeared along with the human.

“You should have gone with him,“ she repeats, more convinced than the first time, “He wanted you to.“

“He has always wanted a lot of things that I cannot give him,“ he says but doesn't elaborate. She feels like he doesn't really have to.

“What will you do now?“ she wants to know, “Repenting gets old after a while.“

“Then I shall pray. And remember. There were a lot of things I had forgotten,“ he replies.

“Everyone forgets down here,“ she tells him, “Whether you want to or not.“

They stare at each other in silence for a bit.

“Can you tell me anything about what has happened up there?“ she asks, “Newspapers are hard to come by round here.“

He blinks once, twice, as if thinking for a moment.

“A black man is president,“ he answers and when it startles a laugh out of her, he smiles a little.

“What about _him_ , though?“ she demands, “What about his brother?“

“His brother was well the last time I saw him. They shall soon be all the better for being reunited once more.“

“But now he is without you,“ she points out, “He tried everything to find you.“

“I know,“ the angel answers and she is torn between wanting to hit or hug him. She does neither.

“He won't just leave you here,“ she reminds him, “He will find a way to get you.“

“He won't,“ the angel says, but there is doubt wavering in his voice, hope and longing. She wonders what he is afraid of, what he must have done to think that he deserves this.

“He has already forgiven you,“ she says, “He considers you family.“

“And I have destroyed a lot of families in the past,“ he counters, “I shall not destroy him as well.“

“I think you just did, though,“ she says and the truth has never been more hurtful.

The angel sighs, finally getting tired of her intereference, “What to you want, girl?“

It startles her a bit. She hasn't thought of herself as a girl in a long time.

“Two things,“ she responds hastily, without allowing herself to think, “Two favors.“

“I am not a miracle worker,“ he tells her, “I cannot return you to your human form nor can I get you out of here.“

“I know,“ she nods, “I know. But... can you kill me? Again, I mean. Please?“

He stares again, unblinking and trying to understand.  
“I do not know where you would go,“ he admits, “Perhaps your soul would just cease to exist. Perhaps it would go someplace worse.“

“I don't care,“ she replies vehemently, “It's worth a try. I don't want to be here anymore.“

“Very well,“ he concedes, “As you wish. What is the second favor?“

“That you won't run away again,“ she says, “When you get back to him, I mean.“

His eyes widen a little, but then he inclines his head, “However unlikely it might be, yes, I promise it.“

“Good, that's good,“ she mumbles to herself and then takes a deep breath, “Okay. I'm ready. Let's do this now.“

He complies and lifts his hand then, but before he can touch his fingertips to her forehead, she glances up and looks him straight in the eye.

“Hey, Cas,“ she says and smiles, “One more thing. Tell Sam and Dean Madison said hi.“

And here she is, Castiel the angel standing in front of her, beaten and bedraggled and possibly the loneliest creature to ever exist, and suddenly his answering nod makes everything alright.

“I shall do so,“ he says and his hand is warm and dry and gentle and she gets why Dean never wanted him to let go.

Purgatory disappears in a blinding flash of white light, pure and soothing, and she welcomes it readily. 

Madison the girl fades into oblivion. Castiel the angel stays behind.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the realization that Madison must've ended up in Purgatory as well. Aptly written in the middle of the night.


End file.
